


Silence

by Anacrea



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Awkward Friendship, Canon Era, Gen, M/M, One-Sided Enjolras/Grantaire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-02-13 03:51:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12975264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anacrea/pseuds/Anacrea
Summary: Enjolras takes Grantaire home.





	Silence

Enjolras did some of his best work when he was away from home. The official ending of the meetings of their society rarely saw more than a few of them leave, the rest slipping into casual conversation. Often, Enjolras was content not to join in, but to listen, the sound of his friends’ laughter and anger and enthusiasm the most pleasant ambiance, and the greatest possible inspiration, for his thoughts. At these times he was most content. 

On the rare occasions when the mood for writing took him, he could immerse himself in that ambiance for hours, not actively participating but absorbing their company nonetheless, as his friends gradually filtered out of the door, and out of the conversation. This night, Enjolras did not stir from his trance until the door closed for the last time.

It was the hush that fell afterwards that disturbed him, rather than the sound of it. Blinking and looking up from his pages, he realized that it was late indeed, and only the soft sound of Louison sweeping up indicated that anyone else was here. After gathering his papers, collecting his bag and his coat, Enjolras saw that he was not entirely alone after all. 

Grantaire still sat sprawled over his table in the corner. As Enjolras regarded him, unnervingly silent, he decided that there was this last matter to attend to before going home. It was common for Grantaire to drink, less common for him to be drunk into silence; usually, it was rather the opposite. “They are clearing up, here,” he said. “They will want us to go.” Grantaire did not respond.

Assuming that he was perhaps in a trance of his own, Enjolras set his bag down and approached, voice growing a little sharper to ensure he was heard. “You can’t sleep here. Grantaire--” he began, but then Grantaire moved, startling him as though a statue in the park had done so, and grabbed him by the wrist.

Enjolras jerked backwards, yanking his hand away, and then saw the way Grantaire’s expression fell, that he leaned his head back on the table, and he felt a sort of pity swell within him. “Grantaire,” he tried more gently, taking a step closer, “it is time to go home.” 

Grantaire looked up at him with the odd, doelike expression he often reserved for Enjolras, and slurred, “I haven’t any other to go to.”

Frowning at him, Enjolras began forming a plan in his head. Joly was taking Bossuet still, and likely would not have room for a third, but Courfeyrac was living within the Quarter and would not begrudge a friend in need. “You have quit your apartment?” he asked, “Or you’ve been evicted?” But Grantaire only shook his head and stood, very unsteadily, waving Enjolras away. 

It was obvious just from looking at him that Grantaire was in no state to walk home by himself, even if it was only five or so minutes away. He was practically indecent, with his cravat hanging limply around his neck and his waistcoat unbuttoned, and he could not stand without swaying slightly from side to side. “Then I am taking you home,” he said, in a voice that permitted no objection.

Grantaire did not protest, even despite the initial wave, and allowed Enjolras to step in closer, to tie his cravat (loosely, because he suspected it may not be coming off again) and button his waistcoat, only staring at him all the while while a baffled expression. Only after Enjolras helped him into his coat did he pull away a little. “Haven’t you some cloud of your own to rest upon?” he asked, and Enjolras grimaced, taking him by the arm. 

“It is late. A long distance to walk, in the dark, to my apartment. So it is convenient for me also,” he said, though that did not factor into his decision, as he pulled Grantaire into a steady walk, letting him lean upon his shoulder. 

The five minute walk felt like an eternity, as Grantaire had none of his usual physical grace, and the odd silence which he remained within began to truly unnerve Enjolras. It was not that he’d prefer to be expounded upon by dubious philosophy, but this alternative did not provide the relief he may have expected. 

When they arrived at Grantaire’s apartment, Enjolras let go of him and let him open the door. Stepping inside, he was surprised to see that the place was much less cluttered than he’d imagined. It appeared as though Grantaire did not live here at all -- or, if he did, he did not spend any significant time here. In that sense it was not entirely dissimilar to his own apartment. That might have been comforting, but in another way it made him feel like a stranger. 

He’d just finished taking off his coat and his shoes when Grantaire motioned toward the bed, mouthing something although no audible words came out. “No,” Enjolras said, shaking his head. “Get some rest. I am sure you will need it after tonight. I will take a pillow and a blanket and that will be enough.” It looked for a moment as though Grantaire meant to disagree, perhaps to insist that Enjolras was a guest, but he was spared the argument in the end.

It didn’t take Grantaire any longer than five minutes to fall asleep after lying on the bed, but for Enjolras, an eternity. It was not the hardness of the floor beneath his back, or the chill, but the pervasive sense that Grantaire would not rise again in the morning that kept him awake. He would drift off, only to hear Grantaire’s breathing quiet and snap awake, listening, until he heard another loud snore.

Yet, in the morning, Grantaire still breathed, and the night before seemed more dream than reality even for Enjolras. He left before Grantaire could wake and prove it to him, leaving the pillow and blanket folded up on the floor as the only evidence of his intrusion.


End file.
